Little White Lies
by dnachemlia
Summary: While on a family road trip, Sarah McGee finds something she thought she had lost a decade ago. Part of my Dead Reckonings 'verse, set several years in the future. Crossover with Highlander: the Series (but no characters from the crossover appear). Written for the NFA Future Fic and Fifty-Seven Mount Pleasant Street Challenges. Two-shot.
1. Chapter 1

**Little White Lies**

Part of my _Dead Reckonings_ 'verse, set several years in the future. Crossover with _Highlander: the Series_ (but no characters from the crossover appear). Two-shot.

Written for the NFA _Future Fic_ and _Fifty-Seven Mount Pleasant Street_ Challenges.

Summary: While on a family road trip, Sarah McGee finds something she thought she had lost a decade ago.

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of their respective copyright holders. No infringement intended. The original characters and places mentioned are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to those living, dead, or undead is completely coincidental.

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Chapter 1

The blazing summer sun had-thankfully-just sunk below the horizon as Sarah McGee-Harris guided the family car into a gas station. She pulled up next to the pump and turned off the engine, happy to finally have break from driving. She nudged her tall, curly-blond-haired passenger, eliciting a groan from the man to whom she'd been married for nearly ten years.

"Wake up, Mike. Your turn to drive. I'll pump the gas." She turned to check on the dark-haired child in the back seat and saw that Emma was awake, rubbing her eyes and yawning.

"Are we there yet, Mom?"

"Just a few more miles to the lodge. We needed gas."

"Oh."

"I expect we both need a pit stop," Mike added, and Emma nodded. "Come on, munchkin." He climbed out of the car and held the door for Emma as she climbed out as well.

"Your usual?" he asked his wife as she dug in her purse for her wallet.

"Yeah, thanks." He leaned across the seat and gave her a quick kiss before shutting the door and leading Emma across the parking lot. Sarah finally managed to retrieve her credit card and climbed out of the car herself. She pre-paid for the gas with her card and started the pump before leaning against the car to survey the area. There was only one other car at the far pump, and one parked near the back of the store. No other people were in sight.

Sarah closed her eyes for a moment and sighed. They had been on the road for five days, part of Mike's grand plan for a family trip. They had driven across the southern part of the country and were now in Arizona, probably 30 miles from the southern rim of the Grand Canyon where they had planned to stop for the night.

 _Basically the middle of nowhere_ , Sarah thought to herself. _Guess that means we're on vacation._

The pump finally clicked off and she replaced the nozzle on the holder before turning to put the gas cap back on the tank. She looked over the top of the car at the surrounding high desert, enjoying the momentary peace and quiet of the summer twilight.

Her reverie was disrupted by the slamming of a car door and she turn to see the other car start up and drive off. It was an old station wagon, well used, with _Saint Isadore Catholic Church_ painted across the back window in neat white letters.

 _Probably local_ , Sarah thought, and returned her attention to the desert. She could hear the plaintive yips of coyotes, a sound that immediately brought to mind a rush of loneliness...and isolation. It was quite different from the noise and traffic back home in Raleigh-Durham; a nice change, but she didn't think she could stand it for the long term. She needed the hustle and bustle of city life. It kept her occupied, and made it easier to keep her mind off...unpleasant memories.

Several minutes passed before Mike and Emma emerged from the store. Emma appeared rather animated, and Mike was clearly uncomfortable with her excitement and was keeping a tight grip on her hand as he led her across the expanse of concrete to the pumps.

"What's going on?" Sarah asked as she accepted a styrofoam cup from her husband.

"Did you see that man?" Emma blurted out, ignoring the glare her father was giving her. "He looked just like Uncle Tim!"

Sarah winced at the mention of her late brother. Even ten years later, it hurt to think of Tim, although she was constantly being reminded of him by Emma. She had come across his picture in one of Sarah's old photo albums and had begged her mother to tell her about him. Ever since then Emma had been almost obsessed with learning as much as she could about her uncle, an interest that made her father more than a little uncomfortable.

"No, he didn't. That was just your imagination, Emma."

"Yes, he did, Dad! Look, I took his picture." She started to pull out her phone and Sarah groaned.

"Emma, how many times have I told you not to take pictures of strangers?"

"But Mom-!"

"Give me the phone."

Emma huffed. "Fine. But look at the picture!"

Sarah sighed. She hadn't been thrilled when Mike had bought the phone for Emma, claiming an eight-year old didn't need such an accessory. It looked like she had just been proven right. She glanced at her daughter and groaned again when she took in the pleading expression.

"Alright, but you're not getting it back. You need to learn to follow the rules." She opened the photo app and let out a small gasp when she saw the picture of the man Emma had seen.

It was Tim.

 _That's impossible. It can't be him… My brother is dead!_

She enlarged the image so she could get a better look and her eyes widened as she took in the details. The picture showed the right side of man's face clearly: he had a small scar on his cheek, identical to the one Tim had, in the exact same place.

 _How?_

"Mom, are you OK?"

She managed to pull her gaze away from the picture to meet her daughter's worried green eyes.

"Fine. I'm fine."

"It does look like him, right?"

"Emma, don't harass your mother."

"It's OK," Sarah replied, unable to keep the tremor from her voice. "He does look a little bit like your uncle. Funny coincidence, huh?"

"Something like that," Mike replied as he opened the door and motioned for Emma to get in the car. "It's getting late. We need to get to the lodge."

"Of course." Sarah handed him the keys and climbed into the passenger seat. Mike walked around to the other side of the car and after he was buckled into the driver's seat he turned to his wife.

"You sure you're OK?"

"Fine." She gave him a shaky smile. "Just tired. It's been a long day."

He studied her for a few moments, clearly not buying her story but also aware enough of her emotions to let her excuse lie. "Alright. I'll get us there as soon as I can."

"Thanks."

Emma remained silent, obviously aware of the tension between her parents, and after several miles has passed Sarah checked on her to find her fast asleep again.

"She's right," Sarah murmured, causing Mike to glance at her. "It really does look like Tim."

"Sarah…"

"I know. It can't be him, but… It was almost nice to think it could be. That he could still be alive." She laughed softly. "When it happened, I didn't want to believe… I mean, there wasn't even a body. He was just...gone. I was convinced it was some grand conspiracy, but… He wouldn't have done that to me."

Mike reached over and gently rubbed her arm. "I'm sorry. This was supposed to be a fun, relaxing trip, and…"

She placed her own hand over his and give him a gentle squeeze. "It's OK."

Finally they made it to the lodge and got settled into their cabin before heading out to dinner. Emma was surprisingly quiet through the meal and Sarah wanted to brush it off as exhaustion, but she knew the child well enough to see she was bothered by something.

After the meal was finished they returned to their two-bedroom cabin and Sarah helped Emma get ready for bed.

"Mom?" Emma asked as Sarah tucked her in. "Are you really OK?"

"I'm fine, honey. Just tired. It was a long day."

"Are you still mad at me?"

"I'm not mad at you. Why would you ask that?"

"I made you sad."

Sarah sighed and gave her daughter a weary smile. "It's OK. I'll be fine. Now get some sleep. You father has a big day planned for you tomorrow."

"OK. Good night, Mom."

"Good night, sweetheart."

Sarah turned out the light and quietly returned to the other bedroom. Mike was already in bed, reading the guide book on his phone.

"Everything OK?"

Sarah just nodded and slipped under the covers, cuddling against her husband. He set the phone on the nightstand and wrapped his arms around her as well. Sarah had almost drifted off to sleep when Mike spoke.

"You want to talk about it?"

"About what?"

"Tim."

Sarah winced, the old ache returning. "What is there to talk about? My brother was a federal agent who was killed in the line of duty, protecting his boss and partner. He died a hero. It's what he would have wanted."

"What about what you want?"

"I… I still miss him, Mike. I know I can't have him back, but… I just wish I had had a chance to say goodbye."

"I'm sorry I never got to meet him."

She looked up at Mike and gave him a watery smile. "Yeah, me too. My brother would never have let me live it down, marrying a 'geek'." She gave him a gentle squeeze. "I think you two would have gotten along well."

"Once we got past the 'protective big brother interrogating the man who wants to marry his baby sister' phase."

"You would have passed that with flying colors."

"I'd like to think so."

She reached up and kissed him. "I know so."

He returned the kiss and hugged her tightly. "I owe him, you know. If he hadn't kept you out of trouble…"

"We would never have our family." She sighed. "I know. I never really thanked him for everything he did for me. I wish…"

"I know, Sarah. I know."

After Mike had turned out the light and curled around her, holding her close, she rested her head on his chest and tried to get to sleep. Unfortunately, the memories kept playing over in her mind: turning on the TV and seeing the news-a federal agent had been killed, mentions of NCIS-and in that moment she had known her brother was gone. She had gone to NCIS, demanding to know what had happened, wanting to see for herself, and hadn't even been given that chance.

It still bothered her, she hated to admit, that uncertainty. Maybe that was why she had such trouble letting the whole thing go. She had harassed the rest of Tim's team, begging for answers, none of which had satisfied her. Finally she had turned her back on them, ignoring the pain that they, too, were clearly feeling. She hadn't been able to forgive them for not finding her brother after he had made the ultimate sacrifice to save them.

Not wanting to disturb Mike's rest, Sarah eased away from his embrace and crawled out of bed, quietly making her way out to the main room of the cabin. She searched through her purse and found Emma's phone, once again pulling up the picture of the man who was a carbon copy of Tim.

As she stared at the picture, she began to wonder: was it possible that Tim was alive? That his death was staged as some part of a cover-up? She had posed those questions to his boss, but Agent Gibbs had assured her there was no conspiracy; her brother was gone, and nothing would bring him back.

Sarah returned Emma's phone to her purse and pulled out her tablet. She had promised not to do any work while they were on the road, but she had brought the device along in case of an emergency. She pulled up the web browser, thankful that her husband had made sure she had the best and most reliable connectivity for all of their devices, and started a search for the name of the church she had seen on the car. It didn't take long for her to find an address: _57 Mount Pleasant Street._ She checked the milage and discovered that the church was a little less than an hour's drive to the south. She checked her watch: it was only 2:00 AM, way too early to pay a visit.

Sarah leaned back in the chair she was currently occupying and sighed. _I must be crazy. It's just a coincidence. Leave the poor man alone!_ Then she remembered something she had heard from Tim himself, something he had no doubt learned from his boss: no such thing as a coincidence.

 _I have to know. I have to see for myself…_

Decision made, Sarah quietly got dressed and sat down to wait for sunrise. While she waited, she wrote a quick note to Mike, explaining that she had an errand to run and would be back as soon as possible so as not to ruin their plans. They had intended to spend half a day at the Canyon before moving on to their next reserved lodging at Lake Havasu. At the most, it would be a two hour trip, and she'd probably be back before Emma was even awake.

She passed the rest of the time researching the church itself. There wasn't much, except for a brief news story of a burglary that had been foiled by a passing drifter, with no photos of the good samaritan himself.

Finally the sky started to lighten from black to grey and Sarah placed the note in plain sight before slipping out of the cabin and locking the door. Soon she was in the car and entering the address into the GPS. It confirmed the driving time and directions she had obtained in her search, and she started driving away from the cabin.

The sun was cresting the horizon as Sarah turned onto Mount Pleasant Street and started the drive up the winding mountain road. When she reached the summit she saw a sign for the church, along with a mailbox bearing the number _57_. She pulled into the small gravel lot on the south side of the building and parked her car next to the station wagon she had seen the previous night.

Sarah climbed out of the car and surveyed the property. The church itself was set on about an acre of cleared ground surrounded by dark, scraggly pine trees, bushy juniper and tall, slender white-barked aspen. At the northern end of the property near the tree line was a small clapboard house, recently painted white. The house was flanked by a rather impressive woodpile and small, well-tended garden. _Must be the priest's residence_ , Sarah thought. She hesitated a moment and decided to try the church first.

A neat stone path led from the parking lot to the front steps of the church on the west side of the building. Sarah followed the path to the entrance and noticed that anyone standing on the front steps would have a wonderful view, through a break in the trees, of the surrounding mountains and the valley below. She paused for a moment to appreciate the scene before turning and studying the church.

Except for the bell tower at the front, the church was a single story wooden structure, cross-shaped with a high peaked roof. It, too, had been recently painted white and the roof looked newly shingled. The front wall of the bell tower contained a simple circular rose window, with eight clear glass "petals" surrounding a small open circle. There were no other windows in the front but Sarah had noticed several small stained-glass panels along the side as she had passed.

The doors were solid wood, with iron fittings-obviously old, but well-cared for-and the handle was cool beneath her hand when Sarah grabbed it to pull one of doors open. It swung out easily and she stepped into the cool interior of the church. The narthex was cool and quiet, with a field-stone floor and whitewashed walls, and a staircase in one corner that crossed half of the ceiling and then ascended to the bell tower. She proceeded into the nave, which had two rows of plain wooden pews on either side, ten in all. The stained glass windows on both sides were small but detailed, and depicted eight biblical scenes, similar to those Sarah had seen in the churches she had attended growing up. The room was open to the roof, with visible wooden struts and cross beams, and it, too, was cool and quiet.

When she reached the transept, she saw other familiar icons from her childhood. A confessional occupied each of the ends of the transept, with dark wood screens and brown cloth curtains ensuring privacy. The lectern stood on the left side of the sanctuary, in front of the communion rail, and was draped with a gold-embroidered red cloth. Upon it sat a large leather bound bible, clearly old and well used. The pulpit stood on the right, unadorned but beautifully carved from dark wood, with a carved wooden presider's chair off to one side. Beyond the communion rail stood the altar, which was draped with a white, gold-edged cloth, and a gold chalice sat in the center, surrounded by several gold and silver plates and candles in brass bases. Behind the altar hung a large crucifix, and above the tormented figure of Christ on the cross was a second rose window, much more elaborate and constructed of hundreds of diamond-shaped panels of colored glass that created a kaleidoscope of multi-colored light in the early morning sun.

"May I help you?"

Startled, Sarah spun around and saw an elderly man dressed in a priest's cassock. His snow-white hair stood out in contrast to his deeply tanned and wrinkled skin. He was studying her with dark brown eyes, a mildly quizzical expression on his face.

"I'm sorry, Father, I didn't mean to barge in like this-"

He smiled. "All are welcome, child. You can never 'barge in' to God's House."

"Right...sorry, uh..."

"Father Javier," he said as he placed a hand on his chest. "How may I be of service?"

"I…" She fumbled for her purse and pulled out Emma's phone. "I'm looking for this man." She brought up the image and held it out for his inspection. "I think I saw him driving your...the church's car last night."

Father Javier examined the image and smiled again, although Sarah though she saw a hint of worry in his gaze. "Yes, I know him. That's David. He lives here."

"He's a priest?"

Father Javier chuckled. "No. He's our handyman. He takes care of the buildings and the grounds...and me, when necessary. A good man."

"How long has he worked for you?"

Father Javier paused to think. "Let me see...six, no seven years." His smile faltered slightly. "I was fortunate that he arrived when he did."

"What happened?"

"He stopped a burglary. Two men came in one night, intent on stealing some items of value, and when they did not find as much here as they had hoped they threatened me. David was passing through and saw what was happening. He was able to subdue them until the police arrived. I have no doubt he also prevented the men from inflicting serious injury upon myself. I told him it was Providence that he was here to stop them." Father Javier chuckled softly. "He did not agree."

"But he decided to stay?"

"It took some convincing, but I could see that he needed to rest, and recover from whatever it was that had set him adrift. He has never shared with me what that was, but I do believe he has benefited from being here as well." He tilted his head slightly and studied her again. "I do not mean to pry, but you have not given a reason for your interest."

"He… I think he might be my brother."

The priest's eyebrows rose in surprise. "David has not mentioned any family. I received the distinct impression that they were...gone."

"We thought he was gone as well."

"I see. Well, I imagine you would like to speak with him and decide if he is whom you believe him to be. If you did not see him out on the grounds, then he is most likely in his quarters in the undercroft. The basement." He pointed back towards the narthex. "The stairs are below those leading to the bell tower."

"Thank you."

Father Javier took one of her hands in both of his and gave a gentle squeeze. "I hope you find what you are looking for," he added sincerely before releasing her.

Sarah could only manage a shaky nod and started walking towards the door. She soon found the steps leading to the basement and slowly descended, not sure what she was going to find when she reached the bottom.

The small space was surprisingly clean but crowded, with boxes neatly stacked along the walls. On the far side of the room she saw a door and walked towards it, her heart pounding in her chest.

 _What if this is for nothing?_

She reached the door and raised her hand to knock, pausing a moment to steel herself against what she might-or might not-find on the other side. Finally she rapped on the door and a muffled voice called out "just a minute!". She waited and soon the door swung inward, revealing the basement's occupant.

"Oh my God…"

Sarah's had went to her mouth as she stared up into the face of the man she hadn't seen in ten years.

" _Tim?"_

TBC…

A/N: I am not Catholic, so please forgive any mistakes I may have made in describing the church. No offense intended.


	2. Chapter 2

Little White Lies

Chapter 2

"Tim?"

The man stared at her, confusion clear in his expression, and for one horrible moment Sarah thought she had made a mistake before his eyes widened in shock.

"Sarah?"

A sob escaped her throat as she surged forward and wrapped her arms around him, tears streaming down her face. "Oh, God, Tim…"

Tim stiffened in her arms for a few seconds before he embraced her as well. She could feel him shaking and she hugged him tighter, years of pain rising to the surface as she held her brother, her head against his chest, listening to the strong, rapid beat of his heart.

"Sarah, what are you doing here?"

Startled, Sarah looked up at Tim's face and saw a familiar, closed-off expression, the mask he had always used when he was trying to avoid something. She felt a surge of anger and stepped back to smack him hard in the chest with her fist.

"What am I doing here?" She smacked him again, harder. "What are _you_ doing here? I thought… You let us think you were _dead!_ How could you _do_ that?" She hit him again. "How could you do that to me...and Mom...and… God, Tim, Penny _died_ thinking you had been killed...and...we didn't even have a body to bury…" She raised her hand to hit him again and paused when she saw his expression: sadness and devastation, the depth of which was so profound that it took her breath away and she felt a surge of shame. What she had been feeling clearly paled in comparison to what her brother had experienced.

"Tim? I… I'm sorry, I…"

Tim sighed as he seemed to regain control and the mask slipped back into place. "You better come in and sit down. This is going to take awhile to explain." He moved back and opened the door wider to allow her admittance into his quarters.

Sarah stepped through the door and glanced around at the surprisingly spartan space as Tim closed the door.

"Coffee?"

"Yeah." She managed a weak smile but he had already turned towards the small kitchenette in the corner. She moved towards the opposite corner where a battered sofa and equally battered recliner sat around a coffee table constructed from old milk crates and two rough boards. A bookcase made from similar materials stood next to the recliner and she absently scanned the titles. Most were second-hand paperbacks but the top shelf contained several almost pristine advanced reading copies-an oddity in an era where most books were electronic- by an author she recognized: David A. Gibbson. Suddenly the significance of the name struck her.

"You wrote these?" she asked, and Tim nodded. Her husband was a fan of these books, she knew, but she had never read them. She tried to remember the basic plot that Mike had attempted to explain: a knight, cursed with immortality and forced to wander, spent his time slaying dragons and battling other magical creatures. Pretty standard fantasy fare, but Mike had indicated that there was a strong undercurrent of sadness, making the main character quite sympathetic.

"That's quite a departure from L.J. Tibbs and company," she remarked, trying to keep her tone light. Tim merely nodded again, not even turning around.

She let her gaze wander around the rest of the room and saw a wooden desk, an old typewriter and a more modern computer sharing space on its surface, and a comfortable looking desk chair. A twin-sized bed stood on the other side of the room, with an alarm clock and cheap-looking lamp sitting on the nightstand next to the bed. A door in the wall next to the kitchen led to what looked like a small bathroom, and another door led to what was probably a closet. Next to the closet stood a small dresser, and leaning up against the dresser was what looked like a large sword in a leather sheath, which Sarah decided must be a prop of some kind. There were no pictures or any decorations on the walls, nothing to give her any clues as to her brother's life over the last few years.

Sarah felt a presence behind her and turned to find Tim holding two mugs, one of which he offered to her. She accepted it and followed him to the 'sitting area' where she lowered herself gingerly onto the sofa. Tim sat in the recliner, his own mug in one hand. Sarah took a sip of the coffee and winced. It was exactly how she used to drink it, now far too sweet for her older palate.

"OK?" Tim asked, and she managed another weak smile.

"It's fine. Thank you." She waited for him to say more but he was clearly struggling to begin what promised to be a very awkward conversation. She studied him and suddenly something else struck her, something she hadn't been expecting. "You haven't aged."

Tim's eyebrows rose and he looked up at her. "What?"

"You don't look older. I mean, you've always looked younger than you are, but… you're pushing fifty and you look… You haven't changed at all." Her face creased in puzzlement as she twisted a strand of her hair-much shorter than she used to wear it-between her fingers. She had noticed the first strands of silver in her own dark locks just a month ago, but her brother bore no such signs of the march of time. "How?"

"It's part of the reason why I had to leave." He looked up and met her gaze. "And why I had to let you think I was dead."

"I don't understand. What does that have to do with-."

"I _did_ die, Sarah. Twenty years ago. I went out to interview a possible witness in a case, and...he shot me. I died. But then I came back."

"That doesn't make any sense!" She glanced at the bookshelf and felt another surge of anger. "So, what, you're going to tell me you were 'cursed with immortality', like the hero in your books?"

"Not exactly like that, no. I wasn't cursed. Apparently it's part of what I am."

"' _What_ ' you are? What are you talking about?"

Tim drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, clearly preparing himself for an unpleasant task. "I'm an Immortal, a member of a race of people who, after they die a violent death, come back to life and can't be killed by normal means. We heal from almost any wound. We don't age."

Sarah could only stare at him in astonishment for several moments before she finally found her voice. "Tim, if this is your idea of a joke…"

Tim ran a hand over his face and sighed. "Wait here." He walked over to the kitchen and returned with towel and a knife which held held, handle out, towards Sarah. "Here. Check it. Make sure it's real."

She reluctantly took the knife from him and tested the blade. It was solid and appeared to be razor sharp. "It's real. Now what?"

He held out his hand and she placed the knife on his palm. He gave her a reassuring smile before he gripped the handle and quickly drew the blade across his other hand, a line of blood welling up almost immediately as he winced in pain.

"Tim! What in the _hell?_ What are you doing?"

"Just wait." He used the towel to wipe the blood from his hand and as she watched a small spark of blue lightning crossed the wound and it closed up, leaving Tim's hand whole and unmarked.

"Oh my God…" She grabbed his hand and studied the spot where the cut had been before cautiously touching it. It felt solid and she couldn't detect any defect in the skin. "How is this possible?"

"That's one question no one has ever been able to answer, unfortunately."

"Why didn't you ever tell me?"

He managed a weak smile of his own. "We don't usually tell other people, unless they... Unless they witness something we can't explain away and we _have_ to tell them."

"Does...did your old team at NCIS know?"

"Yeah. They did."

"So you told _them_ and not your own family?"

"It wasn't like that, Sarah. Ziva was with me when it happened, and neither of us knew what was going on at first. Gibbs _did_ know what was going on even before I did. He'd met other people like me before and figured it out. Tony...well, he's a trained investigator. It was inevitable."

"Then they lied to me!"

"They had to, Sarah. To protect you."

"Protect me? Or to protect _you_?"

"Both. Sarah, knowing about Immortals, it's not safe. There's more to all of this than just… It's complicated."

"That's a massive understatement, Tim."

He chuckled softly. "Yeah, it is."

Suddenly a horrible thought struck her. "But you're my brother, and if you're like this, then am I going to wind up like you, too?"

Tim shook his head sadly. "No, you won't."

"How do you know that?"

"First, because Immortals can sense the presence of another Immortal, even before they are, uh, activated. And second….because I'm not really your brother." Her eyes widened in shock as he continued. "All Immortals are foundlings. My...your mother found _me_ near a beach in Rhode Island and your parents adopted me."

"They're _your_ parents, too, Tim. _We_ are your family. We deserved to know."

"I was protecting you!"

"Really? _Losing_ you was better than knowing you can't die?"

Tim groaned and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. "Better than knowing the kind of monster I am, Sarah."

"You're not-"

"I said we can't die by normal means, but we _can_ die, and sometimes… we have to kill each other."

" _What?_ Why?"

He just shook his head. "You're really better off not knowing. Please, for once, just trust me."

She stared at him, trying to imagine the man who had helped raise her willingly killing anyone. "Have you…?"

His bit his lip and nodded, his face twisted with shame. "I swear to you, I had no choice…"

"God, Tim…"

They sat in silence for several minutes before he finally met her gaze. "Is this better, Sarah? Knowing all of this? Or was it easier to believe those lies, that you had a brother that was dead, but still human?"

"Tim… _nothing_ was easy about that. When I saw it on the news… and I confronted Gibbs… That was _the_ worst day of my life. Anything else pales in comparison." She stood and walked over to him before bending down and wrapping her arms around him again. "I love you, Tim. Nothing will change that. You will always be my big brother. God, I've missed you so much…"

"I've missed you, too," he murmured as he hugged her in return.

"But now I've found you, and-"

"No, Sarah. I can't go back." He reached up and gently gripped her chin as he met her gaze. "You said it yourself: I haven't aged. Obviously I'm not dead. It would raise way too many questions, and if the wrong people start asking them…"

"You'd wind up in a lab somewhere, or worse. Damn it…"

"How _did_ you find me?"

She let out a soft huff of laughter. "Pure dumb luck, to be honest. Emma saw you at the gas station last night and took your picture because you 'look just like Uncle Tim'."

"Emma?"

She smiled. "Your niece." She pulled out her phone and brought up a picture to show him. "She's eight. She idolizes you, even though she never got a chance to meet you. It's kinda weird, to be honest." Tim chuckled as he examined the picture. "I don't suppose…"

He shook his head and then frowned. "Her father?"

Sarah punched him lightly on the arm. "Been married to him for almost ten years. Mike. He's a good man, Tim." She grinned. "A geek. You two would get along great." Her grin faded. "But I guess we won't find that out, will we?" Tim shook his head again. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure, Sarah." He glanced at the bookshelf. "I know I said it wasn't a curse that made me the way I am, but we _are_ cursed, in a way. Cursed with never having a permanent family, or home." He looked up and met her gaze again. "Cursed with watching everyone we love grow old and die."

She punched him lightly again. "I'm not _that_ old, Tim," she added with a forced laugh and he caught her hand, holding it to his chest.

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah...I guess I do. I'm sorry."

"Never apologize…"

"Oh, don't start that!"

He laughed, as close to a genuine expression of happiness that she had seen from him and she couldn't help but join him.

They were interrupted by the chiming of her phone and she checked it to find a text from Mike.

 _ **Where are you? Are you OK?**_

"Is that...Mike?"

"Yeah. He's wondering where I am. I left him a note, but…"

"You should probably get back to him."

She quickly texted back _**I'm fine, just taking longer than I expected**_ and returned her attention to Tim. "He'll be fine without me for a little while longer."

"But you do need to get back. To both of them. Or are there more…?"

"No. Just me, Mike, and Emma. We're on the big family road trip."

Tim gave her a sad smile. "I've done that myself...without the family."

"You've been here for seven years?" He paused to think for a moment and then nodded. "Where were you for the other three years?"

"Drifting, mostly." She sent him an exasperated look and he chuckled. "I got to see some of the places and things I never had the chance to see before. Or the time… But I have plenty of that, now." He sighed and stood, looking down at her with that same sad smile. "It was really good to see you, Sarah...but your family is waiting for you."

She hugged him again, and there was no hesitation we he returned it.

"Will I ever see you again?"

"I don't know. I'll don't know how long I'll stay here, or where I'll go. Guess I should figure that out, huh?"

"Yeah…"

Finally she released him and took a step back, trying to fix the moment in her memory. She hadn't had a chance when she had lost him the first time, and now… She reached up and touched his cheek.

"I really have missed you." He just nodded. "And if you ever get the chance…"

"Maybe one day."

He led her to the door and opened it, allowing her to step out of his quarters and back into the basement, where he stopped and gave her a light kiss on the cheek.

"Be careful," he whispered and she gave him one final hug before tearing herself away and running up the steps, her tears starting to flow again. She walked out of the church and to her car, climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine. She gave the building one last look before she backed her car out of its space and then drove off, following the winding road back down the mountain.

By the time she returned to the lodge, all traces of her tears were gone. She parked in front of the cabin and immediately the door opened, revealing her husband. He rushed to the car to confront her.

"Where have you been? I was worried sick."

"I'm fine, Mike. It was just something I had to do."

"You went to find that guy that looked like your brother, didn't you?" She nodded. "Did you find him?"

"No," she answered, her voice steady. "I didn't." She looked up and gave him what she hoped was a self-depreciating smile. "Got a little lost on the way back, though."

"With a GPS?"

She shrugged. "What can I say, I'm talented."

Mike rolled his eyes. "So you've gotten it out of your system?"

"Yep. Wasted the time and gas for nothing. I'll make it up to you, I promise."

"As long as you're OK…"

"I'm fine. Let's go see the Canyon."

"Finally!" Emma yelled as she came rushing out the door. "We've been waiting for ages!"

"Then I won't make you wait any longer." She hugged her daughter. "Let's go."

Emma ran back in to get her belongings as Mike and Sarah joined her. Soon they had the car loaded back up and were heading for the park, with Emma chattering away happily in the back seat. Sarah remained quiet for most of the trip, and one they reached their destination Mike turned to her.

"Are you sure you're really OK?" he asked, and his obvious concern for her caused a lump to form in Sarah's throat.

"I'm sure," she replied, wincing inwardly at the lie-one of many that she, too would be forced to tell from now on-and gave him a bright, yet brittle smile. "Never better."

The End

A/N: There will be at least one other story that takes place between this one and _Memento Mori._ There will also be a prequel, that explains in more detail what happened when Tim had to leave NCIS - _Caught Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea_.


End file.
